Page 3 of Breaking Conviction
“Absolutely not, Naomi. We don’t think that.” Ellie’s eyes were wide and earnest as she answered, but only a Band-Aid over the wounds these people weren’t responsible for. “If your injuries need to come from a bike accident, then that’s where they’re from.”
If my injuries need to come from a bike accident...
With one simple sentence, Ellie told Naomi they knew she was full of shit, but that they were trusting her to make her own decisions. The weight of her situation was lifted by the gravity of that freedom and for the first time in years, the tightness in her chest loosened and she didn’t feel like she was suffocating.
They weren’t going to force her to come clean. According to Ellie, they weren’t even going to report it as long as Thea was safe.
For once, in a twisted way, Naomi had power over the situation. This clinic was giving her the opportunity to save herself with their assistance when she was ready, and the freedom of choice to decide all on her own when that would be.
Because what if this was Dean’s wake-up call? It was certainly hers and that alarm was motivating her to seek options. Would that morning be the last time he put his hands on her? Maybe they could finally be the family they were supposed to be for Thea.
Sure, Naomi wouldn’t have the love for Dean that her parents showed for one another before her daddy died. That ship had long since sailed on the stormy seas that had been their relationship. But if he fixed himself, she could make do. Especially for Thea. T deserved to have her father. No matter what Dean had done to Naomi, he’d still been good to Thea. Not great, but… good.
A crash at the medical room door zapped every nerve ending, setting fire to Naomi’s flight response until it registered that the others in the room had relaxed.
She swiveled her head and even in her half-blurred vision, she could tell the intruder was handsome—no, freakinggorgeous. He had navy blue hair and silver streaks, dyed so naturally that it looked like he’d been born with it, and carried boxes—of wires, maybe?—in front of him like it was nothing. His tight black Henley shirt accentuated the corded muscles in his arms and the black ink of his tatted fingers and neck.
I wonder what else is tatted...
Moisture pooled in her mouth and Naomi cursed herself for honest to God drooling over a man. In a domestic violence shelter, for crying out loud. But truly, who could blame her? She’d take any distraction she could get to avoid thinking about the pain still radiating through her body and why she sat on a patient’s examination table.
Plus, she’d always been a total sucker for tattoos. Dean’s were half the reason she’d fallen into his bed just before her junior year of college. The other half had been equal parts sophomore recklessness and cheap bar tequila. She’dthoughtshe’d learned her lesson in both. Good Lord knows she’d never had a lick of that devil water since, but here she was pining over another man pretty much solely on his ink.
Naomi blinked back her stare and moved her gaze up to take in more than just the man’s muscular body to see his pale face blushing beet red all the way from his neck to his black rectangular glasses. He sure knew how to rock the whole tatted Clark Kent vibe, but from his kind eyes, she wondered if he even knew how much his presence commanded the room. Naomi was drawn to those piercing baby blues… until she realized he was consciouslyrefusingto look at her.
Devil huffed. “Snake, I know you’re not used to coming to Sasha Saves, but you can’t barge in like that.”
Snake? His name is literally Snake? For the love of God, who is naming these people?
He had yet to look at her and she didn’t understand the mix of feelings roiling in her belly at that realization. Was it frustration? Disappointment? Maybe Dean had hit her harder than she thought, because her emotions were either nonexistent or all over the damn place and she was sick of the roller coaster.
“I, uh, I know. I’m sorry.” Snake’s baritone soothed her irritation… which the realization, of course, made her irritated all over again. She was about to open her mouth to interrupt, but her breath hitched the moment his bright blue eyes met hers. “I’m here to upgrade the security for the pla—shit.”
The twisted look of disgust on Snake’s face concentrated all her contradictory and confusing emotions into one unmistakable feeling.
Shame.
Chapter Two
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The words shouted much louder in Wes’s mind than the whispered curse that had just escaped his mouth. A dark auburn-haired woman sat on the examination table, and Wes couldn’t peel his eyes away. Her face may have been shadowed in swelling and black and blue bruises, but the disheartened—noashamed—look there was clear as day.
Why the fuck did I open my damn mouth?
Every neuron fired off synapses in his brain, searching for a solution for making this poor woman feel shitty with just a single word. A rewind button to prevent the horror he knew was written all over his face, or hell, even a control+alt+delete sequence, erasing him from the room altogether would be better than standing there like an idiot while she suffered internally.
“Hey, look what I got.”
Bright red curls entered the bottom of his vision just before an iPad was shoved into his stomach. Wes caught the tablet and after somehow managing to balance the boxes with his other hand, he looked down to see the world’s cutest kid. She had the toothiest grin on her round pale face, hazel-green eyes, and what had to be a princess dress to match.
With the red tint in the woman’s hair, he figured she must be the girl’s mother, and found himself wondering whether they looked alike before he realized the child was staring at him expectantly.
Wes examined the iPad to see a paused animated movie of a young woman with fire red hair, just like the little girl. “Oh, wow.” He set his boxes to the side of the room and turned back to crouch to her level. The corners of his lips lifted and matched hers as she pointed to the screen.
“It’s Merida, fromBrave. You hafta come watch.” She pulled the long sleeve of his Henley before her mother interrupted.
“Thea, baby, don’t be rude.” The woman’s voice came out as a rasp and Wes swallowed to make the phantom pain in his throat go away. But he couldn’t cool the electric hot anger filling his veins. He knew what caused that type of vocal injury all too well. Whatever son of a bitch strangled her better fucking pay. “What if he doesn’t wanna watch the show? He has things to do.”
